Bones, Booth, and Baby Booth
by boothaddict77
Summary: A collection of one-shots. All involving our two favourite people. With occasional appearances by their favourite people, because we all need help, now and then, and a respite from all the bickering. Or not.
1. The Grey in the Hair

**A/N: It think we've all wondered what Booth must be like as a dad- well, I wouldn't want him to be my dad, obviously, because then I'd have many, many, many issues- I don't even want to think about the therapy bills- but Booth being a dad is very hot. And this is why I wrote this. Some bits might be confusing to read with flashbacks and such, but just remember that past events are in ****_italics _****and try to follow along. This is more of a two-shot condensed into a one shot, really, but I don't feel up to revising it and splitting it in half. Hope you enjoy it, anyhow. There may be more to come. Also, please point out any glaring errors or formatting issues. I'm very sleepy.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**The Grey in the Hair**

The shouting match was already in full swing by the time Brennan returned to the house. The key turned in the lock, but neither of them heard.

'CHRISTINE ANGELA BOOTH, YOU GO PUT SOMETHING OVER THAT RIGHT NOW!'

'BUT I DON'T _WANT _TO WEAR A JACKET, IT'S HOT OUT-'

'I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WANT, YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE IN THAT- THAT- THAT _THING_!'

'AUNT ANGE GAVE ME _THIS THING, _I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW, AND IT'S VERY-'

'AND YOU CAN BE DAMNED SURE I'LL BE HAVING A TALK WITH ANGELA ABOUT THIS THE FIRST CHA-'

'- YOU CAN'T JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO-'

'OHH YES I CAN, I _AM_ YOUR FATHER THOUGH YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGO-'

'AND I SUPPOSE YOU THINK THAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT-!'

'YEAH I DO, ACTUALLY. SO GO UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW AND-'

'AAAAAAAAAGH!

Brennan materialised at his elbow to find husband and daughter locked in a mutinous staring contest, and arranged her face in a carefully neutral expression to hide her amusement. Not that her furious offspring spared her a glance. She almost appeared to be emitting sparks of rage, Brennan mused. Christine had been lashing out at her parents, unprovoked, with increasing frequency now – especially her protective father (who had gotten increasingly paranoid when she hit puberty); Brennan wasn't particularly concerned because she knew it was perfectly normal for an adolescent to be prone to erratic behaviour and hormonal outbursts at her daughter's age- and Christine's teenage rebellion was quite mild in comparison with most kids her age- but a bewildered Booth had sworn he'd gotten twice as grey in the past few months than he ever had before. Truth be told, Brennan was quite enjoying the whole thing. She didn't even feel guilty about it because she knew that father and daughter had a solid bond at the end of the day that could not be easily broken. She looked up at her fuming daughter at the top of the stairs- hands still on her hips, eyes still locked on her father's- unconsciously mirroring his pose- and smiled. And she relished not being the bad guy for once.

Booth had always been a bit of a pushover as far as his daughter was concerned- few years previously a puppy face and a few tears usually ended with Booth bringing her anything she asked for- and cake and fluffy taffeta strewn all across the living room with a smiling child sitting in the middle of a mess while a sheepish, irritated and mildly regretful Booth endured the wrath of his wife. He'd blamed it all on her- once during a very heated conversation on the subject, tempers and insults flying as they'd recklessly invaded each other's personal space at some point during their shouting match, when they'd both been standing nose to nose, and she'd begun yelling at him for indulging their daughter's every whim instead of setting a precedent for good parenting by teaching her not to be greedy, he'd come flat out and said it.

_'Booth, you can't indulge-!'_

_'It's all your fault!'_

_'_My_ fault?! How is any of this myfault?!'_

_'She has your eyes! She has your eyes, dammit, and I can't say no!'_

He'd seemed to realise the ridiculousness of that statement a moment later, though, and they both realised their position- lips a breath apart, chests heaving- and Booth's eyes fell to her lips as he licked his own but he caught himself before he could do what she really, really wanted him to do- and she wouldn't have the strength to keep him from doing; and even as her lips tingled in anticipation she was glad that he'd stepped away because if he hadn't then this argument would have gone the same way as so many others- temporarily unresolved in favour of resolving the tension between them.

He raked a hand through his hair as he turned away from her, but then he came right back, as he always did.

_'Look, I'm sorry, Bones. You're right. I know I shouldn't have said yes, but then she looked at me, and…' much in the way you're looking at me right now 'I'll- I'll get all those cushions dry cleaned and get the chocolate stains off the couch, alright?'_

He flashed her a charming smile and even offered to do the dishes and the laundry for the next week but it was very clear by that point that he really wanted to get into her pants and she really wanted to let him.

_'I shouldn't have given in like that. It won't happen again.'_

And then he kissed her. But ofcourse he did give in to the next tantrum, and it did happen again. And, although she informed him she could not be assigned blame- or credit- for passing on genetic characteristics that he had a particular susceptibility to- Booth maintained his original defence, because it was true; when Bones cried, he took one look in those eyes and he wanted to hold her close forever, and comfort her and tell her everything would be OK and breathe her in until they shared the same space and she believed him and everything bad was forgotten- when their daughter cried, he panicked and got desperate, and once she learned to talk he was ready to rope in the moon if she asked for it and give it to her- anything to make her stop.

Needless to say, this habit of his- he never learned from his mistakes in this particular regard- had led to several parental disagreements over the years, not all of them as pleasant as others- but now Christine was getting older, her demands had begun to grow with her; and a car for New Year's Eve- following an iPad for Christmas (settled on after some negotiation with the help of a mediating Brennan when the request for a gun had been met with a 'hell no' just as vehement as the one he'd given her mother)- was just not as easy to agree to. So Booth had been learning to say no to a lot of things, and the younger Booth had been throwing tantrums all over the place.

Brennan was roused from her reflections just as the stalemate between the two Booths was finally broken, when Christine turned on her heel with a loud huff and headed back in the direction of her bedroom, muttering furiously.

'Are you ready, baby- ?' Booth asked his wife absently, watching their daughter go; he was still looking after her as Brennan spoke up from behind his shoulder.

'Booth, maybe you should be a little more lax about allowing her to dress as she chooses. It's important to cultivate a sense of-'

'Bones, did you see that thing?' he continued without waiting for a response. 'Well no, ofcourse you didn't, it was practically nonexistent. And you know Sanders is bringing his kid today- remember Trent? He's 17, and he's been eyeing up Chrissie ever since he graduated high school.'

'Booth, he seemed like a perfectly nice boy and he appeared to appreciate Christine's intellect and conversation at the department heads' Christmas party. Besides, I'm fairly certain I've worn a cocktail dress quite like that one to one of your work galas when we were first partnered together-'

Booth snorted. '17 year old boys don't know the meaning of the word 'intellect'. And I promise you, Bones- I may not have been able to say it back then but let me tell you, when you wore those little dresses I wasn't thinking-'

He finally turned to look at her, and his mouth went dry. He swallowed. 'About, uh, what I'm not thinking about right… uh, now', he finished rather lamely.

Brennan smirked and rolled her eyes. 'Well, I'm glad to know you only sought me out at these events because of my physical appearance while pretending to derive enjoyment my company. It's reassuring that you consider me a piece of chicken-'

'Meat, Bones', he corrected automatically, moving closer. 'Piece of meat.' He licked his lips. And I'll have you know…'

He rounded the counter to where she stood and stalked towards her predatorialy.

'I have the greateset respect for your'- his eyes swept over the curves of her bodice '…intellect…' his eyes moved lower, 'and conversation.'

He added the last on a slight growl. His eyes burned darkly as they devoured her and she suddenly felt undressed instead of overdressed, as she had earlier worried she might have been.

'Booth?'

'Mm.'

'Not now.'

She licked her lips, looked at his. Thin sensual line that tilted up into a little side-smile as he noted where her gaze- and thoughts- had shifted.

'We're running late as it is.'

Booth didn't look inclined to listen or care. He leaned in, but then they heard a slam from upstairs. Booth sighed again. He pulled away only slightly, then rested his forehead against hers. And sighed again.

'Bones, I don't know what to do', he mumbled. 'And I swear, it's getting worse.'

'It's only a phase, Booth.' She raked her hands through his hair soothingly, and he shivered as his hand- which had been stroking up her back, across her shoulderblades, down to her wrist- paused and his grip tightened on her arm as he pulled her closer. 'She'll grow out of it soon. It'll pass', she reassured him for the millionth time.

'Yeah, but what if it doesn't?'

He mumbled into her shoulder, sounding almost petulant- remarkably like their daughter. Brennan almost rolled her eyes even as she smiled and resisted the urge to shake her head.

'It will, Booth. Just be patient.'

Her hand stroked over his head gently, and she couldn't resist tugging slightly as she reached the hairs at the base of his neck.

'Yeah, but- mm… Bones, I'm trying, I really am.'

She slapped his wandering hands as they moved smoothly but firmly down her back, after allowing them further than they should have gone, eliciting a shiver from her. He settled for pulling her against him instead as he moved his face away a few inches. She rested her hands on his rock hard chest with a gasp.

'And don't think I'm not going to talk to Angela about this either. It's not the first time she's 'lent' Chrissie something she really shouldn't be wearing.' He emphasised the word _lent_ because they both knew it should really be _bought_\- Angela's favourite pastime was taking Christine shopping.

Booth paused, and a flash of hurt passed through his eyes.

'Do you know that last week she told me off for laying it in to her godmother?' he asked incredulously. Brennan did know. It was impossible not to overhear their arguments lately, even while doing anthropological research in a different room. With the door closed.

'I know, Booth.' She stroked his chest soothingly, attempting to ease his tension. 'I'm sure she didn't mean it. She knows you love Ange.'

Booth still looked quite miserable. She placed a kiss to his chest and he shuddered involuntarily, but relaxed under her touch.

Brennan thought back to the argument in question- or the bits she'd heard atleast. Booth had evidently found a less than modest dress hanging in Christine's open wardrobe while returning the laundry to her room, but it was the panties that really set him off. He had retrieved a scrap of skimpy black panties that he was quite sure didn't belong to his wife (after all, he was intimately familiar with all Bones' panties, having bought - and replaced, and destroyed - many of them himself, and her size) when he'd reached into the laundry basket and found the scrap of lace and - to his credit- inquired quite calmly where she'd gotten it, and whom it belonged to. Christine had- also quite calmly- revealed her source, and claimed ownership of the pair, and the dress in the closet. Suffice to say the ensuing 'discussion' had not been calm in the least, from what Brennan had caught of it.

_'AND JUST WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, DAD-?'_

_'I'M JUST SAYING THAT IT IS INAPPRORIATE FOR SOMEONE YOUR AGE TO-'_

_'AUNT ANGE BOUGHT ME THOSE!_

_'ANGELA IS A GROWN WOMAN, SHE'S ENTITLED TO WEAR WHAT SHE LIKES. YOU ON THE OTHER HAND-'_

_'DON'T YOU INSULT MY GODMOTHER LIKE THAT! SHE-'_

_There was a brief lull in the shouting, during which Brennan assumed Booth was attempting to explain to Christine that he was not, in fact, trying to insult Angela- then the shouting started up again._

_'I AM FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. I'M NOT A CHILD ANYMORE AND-'_

_'AND IF YOU WANTED TO BE TREATED LIKE A RESPONSIBLE ADULT THEN YOU'LL START ACTING LIKE ONE.'_

At this point, Brennan had gotten up and made her way down the hall to diffuse the argument- upon learning the particulars (she hadn't missed much) she insisted Christine apologise to her father, who waved her off.

_'Leave it, Bones. It's OK. G'night, Chris.' _

_After shutting the door dejectedly, he guided them back down the hall. Once they'd reached their bedroom, he turned to Brennan and stuffed his hands in his pockets- he opened his mouth to speak and his Adam's apple bobbed once, but no words seemed forthcoming. And he looked so boyish and vulnerable that she threw her arms around him tightly. He buried his face in her hair._

_'That was out of line, Booth. She should have apologised. I'm sure she'll realise her own mistake and come around later.'_

_'She hates me, Bones.' He mumbled into her hair._

_'Booth, she doesn't hate you, she's just upset-'_

_'No, I know she doesn't, but it's not just about this. You _know_ that. She's been jumping down my throat every chance she gets, and she's been so pissed off at me for the past two days and I don't even know what I've done…'_

_Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered something and shut it again. Booth noticed the action as he pulled away to look at her face. __**Well, I might. **_

_'What? What do you know, Bones?' He asked desperately, almost eagerly. 'What did I do?'_

_Brennan wrinkled her nose adorably in the way that she had when she was feeling bad about something that distracted him only for a moment. 'Um, you took a shower.' She bit her lip. 'And got dressed._

_'I- what?'_

_'Remember that day Christine had her friends over for a slumber party-'_

_'Yeah, and she got mad at me for calling it a 'slumber party.' He grinned. She hadn't really been mad then, just irritated enough to warrant that singsong 'Da-ad!' in chastisement that he actually quite loved hearing._

_'Yes. And then her friend Sandra accidentally wandered in looking for the guest bathroom-'_

_'How is that my fault? Bones, that kid was in our bedroom. None of her friends should have been in here, or in this part of the house without our permission, Chrissie knows that.' Booth flushed slightly and she knew he was recalling the incident- apparently he'd just stepped out of the shower to find an unfamiliar girl standing open-mouthed in their bedroom doorway and she'd fled before he could even get a word out._

_'Yes, but, um', Brennan walked towards the bed and rested her foot on the frame as she began unzipping her work boots. 'It… bothered Christine that her friends saw you like that.'_

_'Why?' Booth scratched the back of his head, moving into the room and discarding his t-shirt one-handed as he got changed for bed- and revealing the __**'why' **__quite clearly to his appreciative wife. 'I mean, that girl Sandy-'_

_'Sandra', she corrected._

_'Whatever, Sandra was gone in a flash and it's not like I was naked or something. Atleast I had a towel on.' He shuddered. 'Thank God.' He paused thoughtfully, trying to remember how he'd have felt about a situation like this as a child. 'But is it really that big of a deal?' He pulled on a fresh t-shirt, soft fabric and hard muscles bunching, and Brennan groaned softly._

_'Bones?'_

_'Hm? Oh, yes. Um. Sandra might only have been here a moment, as you say, but apparently she returned to the room and told Christine what a 'hot dad' she has, and the rest of the girls spent the night talking about you.' _

_'What?' Booth looked mildly mortified. 'Bones, those girls are _fifteen-_' his voice dropped to a scandalised whisper and Brennan rolled her eyes._

_'Actually, Sandra Banks is 17', she informed him wryly, draping a new shirt over the side of the bed. 'You might want to be careful there.'_

_'Yeah, but still…' _

_He grumbled for a bit and shuddered in horror or revulsion- and then moved on to looking quite pleased with himself as he leaned back on his hands and surveyed his wife happily from where he sat at the edge of the bed. _

_'So they thought I was hot, huh?' _

_He waggled his eyebrows and flashed a set of teeth in a perfect white smile.  
_

_Brennan raised an eyebrow at him herself, but her less-than-amused expression came across more amused than she'd intended. Now it was his turn to be distracted as she set to removing the shirt she had on. She paused after undoing the second button when she remembered she'd left her phone on the sink counter and this time he let out a groan of disappointment- he didn't bother hiding it and he was much louder than she had been, too- as she disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned, toothbrush in hand and adorably bundled in an oversized robe, they began talking about The Incident again._

_'Apparently they were, and I quote, 'talking about Daddy's muscles and his job and it was totally disgusting'. And it was most irrational of her but Christine was quite upset with you as a result, as I recall, even though she assured me-' she disappeared off into the bathroom to spit, wiped her mouth daintily and returned to find her husband with his head buried in his hands._

_'_Why_?' he cursed softly. _

_This time Booth's groan was one of pained frustration._

_'Ofcourse she was upset', he mumbled. 'That must have completely ruined her first sleepover with her new friends.' He hung his head._

_'It's not your fault, Booth.'_

_He sighed. 'I know that, but I still feel bad. Maybe I should talk to her in the morning.'_

_Brennan consulted the clock by their bed.* 'You could talk to her now', she suggested. 'It's only seven.'_

_'Is it?' Booth looked up in surprise. 'Today's been an awfully long day for a Sunday, hasn't it?'_

_'All days last for exactly the same length of time, Booth.'_

_He ignored that. 'And you went into work, too, baby', his voice and eyes softened as they landed on her. 'You must be exhausted.'_

_Brennan shrugged. Booth got to his feet. He raked a hand through his hair. 'I swear, Bones, I've aged ten years in the past few days.'_

_'Age is another temporal construct that cannot be accelerated or-'_

_But he was already heading out the door. Brennan huffed._

_Then he threw a 'Well, are you coming?' over his shoulder and she rolled her eyes, placed her toothbrush back in the stand, and made to follow her husband._

_They'd found Christine downstairs raiding the fridge, a large bowl in one hand and a tub of chocolate ice cream in the other. Booth raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It was clear that she had inherited her mother's tendencies in this department. Brennan appeared behind him and quickly determined that their child was beginning to fall into a pattern as she adjusted to her newly initiated menstrual cycle. When Christine turned to her parents, arms full of junk and spoon between her teeth, she remained silent- not that she had many other options at the moment- but glared at her father as if to ask, 'what do _you _want?' Knowing that they needed to sort this out between the two of them, Brennan wisely kept her mouth shut. _

_'Uh, Chrissie, can we talk?'_

_She looked to her mother, who remained dangerously expressionless but simply raised a perfectly shaped brow, and back to her slightly apprehensive, much less intimidating, hulking father. Grudgingly, she allowed the pile of junk to fall onto the counter and it appeared as if she was about to spit the spoon out unceremoniously but one look at Brennan and she placed it down without so much as a clatter._

_'I'm listening.'_

_Booth, it would appear, although eager to have this conversation, had not thought it through at all- he too, turned to Brennan for guidance and she rolled her eyes and gave him the same raised brow as he swallowed nervously and turned back to their daughter, realising he was on his own. He took a deep breath and then began speaking._

_'Well, your mom and I were talking and uh, she mentioned that, you know-' said mom had by this point curled up on the couch in the living room with a book, just within visible - and hearing distance, just in case the shouting started. She gave him a look to say, 'go on', and he turned back to his daughter whose expression revealed a mixture of boredom and annoyance and gulped again. _

_'Right. She told me that, you know, that day your friends were over, Sandra walked in on- walked in just as I was leaving the bathroom-'_

_'And saw you naked, yes, I know', came the fuming interruption. _

**_Flinch._**

_'I was NOT- I was not naked', Booth lowered his voice with considerable effort. 'I was wearing a towel. And Chrissie, you can't blame me for walking out of my own bathroom to get dressed in my own bedroom!' He frowned, looking puzzled for a moment. _

_'Hold on, why _was _she there? She said she was looking for the bathroom, but there's one in your room _and _one out in the hall if that was occupied- she had to have passed it on the way-'_

_'Good. Question. Dad.' Christine gritted out, squeezing her discarded spoon in a death-grip. 'And I'm. Well. Aware.'_

_'In any case, that girl shouldn't have been in that part of the house, you know that, you said so yourself-'_

_'Yes, I did, and I apologised, didn't I?' She didn't look very apologetic at all._

_'I'm not angry, sweetheart, I didn't want you to apologise, I'm just trying to-'_

_'Do you have any idea HOW EMBARRASSING IT WAS-'_

_Brennan cleared her throat loudly and shifted in her seat but didn't rise. The level of Christine's voice dropped, and she trailed off, refusing to meet her father's eyes._

_'Chrissie', Booth tried again gently, tilting his head and attempting to get her to look at him. 'Maybe if you actually let me _talk_ to your friends every once in a while, like your mother does, instead of-'_

_'NO!' But this was vehemence, not anger. 'No', she repeated firmly. She seemed to find something extremely interesting on the counter again. Booth sighed._

_'Look, your mom told me what they talked about, you know, and I'd say I'm sorry but I really don't see how I can help it. And this Sandra girl sounds a little bit off, anyway, maybe she's just-_

_'It wasn't just her', and her voice sounded petulant, threatening to turn into a tearful whine. 'It was all of them.'_

_'Honey…'_

_ 'No, you weren't there, you don't understand! It was awful. They kept talking about how great my dad is and how he beats up bad guys-' Brennan looked up at this point; Booth looked as if he wished for the days when she thought so too on the one hand and was trying desperately to siphon off some of Brennan's female intuition (she still insisted he had more of it to go around but he maintained she'd developed it after becoming a mother) to deal with whatever dreaded revelation was about to come next on the other _

_'-and has rippling muscles and shoots people at the FBI and none of them cared that you were teaching me how to shoot, too, and-'_

_'Oh, baby, I'm sorry.'_

_'It's not your fault', she deigned to inform with all of her Brennan-esque dignity as she sniffed angrily, but let him embrace her anyway. _

_Booth looked back over her head at her mother, panicked, as if begging her to just Make It Stop somehow, before returning his attention to his distraught daughter, dropping a light kiss on her head and stroking her hair and murmuring unintelligible words of comfort. Brennan bit her lip in hesitation for a moment and then deciding everything had been settled- for the time being, atleast- got up to join them in the kitchen. _

_'But they're all like this- the girls. Maybe I should only invite boys to stay over.'_

_'Maybe you shouldn't'. _

_Brennan winced the instant the too-quick reply fell from Booth's lips._

_Christine pulled away from him, eyes flashing. '_

_Excuse me. Just because I suggested I might prefer male company does not mean-_

_'Christine.'_

_'- that I want to have sex with every boy that I meet-'_

**_Flinch._**

'Christine_.' _

_**Flinch. Flinch. Flinch.**_

_'WHAT if I decided I'm gay?'_

_**Fli- **Booth looked like he was beginning to think he might be relieved at that possibility, if that meant she'd ponder over it well into the far, far distant future._

_Christine seemed tp pick up on this and her eyes reduced to angry slits.  
_

_'It is incredibly narrow-minded of you to assume that I would-'_

_'OH. NARROW-MINDED, AM I-?' _

_Thankfully Brennan chose this moment to insert herself under the arm resting on the counter and proceeded to wrap herself comfortingly over her husband- before the right hand could come out and start gesturing emphatically- right hand slashing through the air, left on the hip, that was never a good sign with Booth. The 'narrow-minded' argument was one that she herself had with him all too often, and it would start a whole different battle that wouldn't finish any time soon. Booth's arm fell around her and he pulled her against his side, seeming to derive some comfort from the touch as he relaxed visibly, his hold on her almost painfully tight. She had discovered over the years the almost surefire way to get Booth to do anything she wanted, and the most effective way of communicating with him was touch. He was very tactile. And very responsive. And very pleasant to touch- all over. His hold on Brennan relaxing slightly as the tension left his body, he sighed and began again._

_'Look, Chrissie, all I'm saying is I hardly get to meet any of your friends anymore- in fact, I haven't met any of the new ones you've made this year, at the new school-' _

_He was doing really well so far, Brennan thought, proud of her husband- he hadn't even called it squint school_

_'-even though your mum has- and I'm sure they can't all be like Sandra, sweetheart', he added quickly._

_'Guess not', _

_Christine mumbled to her toe._

_'That was a one-off thing, it won't happen again. And just in case, I'll lock the bedoom door the next time someone comes around', he joked feebly, and Christine cracked an equally feeble smile. _

_'And I'm sure the other girls won't, you know, be the same, like I said, but it's fine- really it is, if you don't want me to meet them when they come over, or check on you at night like your mom does. You're growing up, things are changing now, I get that. I mean, I have to remind myself to knock when I enter a room, instead of reminding you. I just- I just feel like you're trying to push me away, and I'm not a part of your life anymore, that's all.'_

_It was an unspoken agreement that Booth would get to meet all the boys who entered the house, no exceptions- besides for Michael Vincent, who was like a brother to Christine and even slept over quite often, and whom Booth trusted implicitly; after poor Terry Brown had run off crying to his parents the first time Christine brought him around, both young adolescents mistakenly thinking her mother was the only one at home, only to find Booth gleefully polishing his guns on the counter, Christine had accepted that all boys were o be screened by Booth. In exchange for this allowance, Booth had- also without being asked- agreed to put away any dangerous weapons during these visits (he felt quite badly about it too, because he'd grown to like little Terry who was mostly harmless as a moth. Thankfully, Christine appeared to have followed her mother's example as far as boys and dating at her age were concerned, and she had little interest in any of her male friends. The reverse was ofcourse not the case, Booth noted half-bitterly and most grumpily. She'd also taken after her mother in the looks department. And she had Booth genes to boot. And an _Aunt Angela.

_Christine sighed at a spot on the counter between them._

_'You're right, Dad. It was just one stupid bunch of girls, I don't even care what they think, to be honest. I had no right to get angry like that, I…'_

_And her eyes were beginning to water again. Booth gently released brennan who disentangled herself from his arms and reached for their daughter instead. She came willingly enough but stubbornly refused to change her position- arms rigid at her side, little fists trembling- Booth didn't mind though, and he pulled her easily to him- this time she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt._

_Her husband was still holding their daughter- whose reluctance to accept the embrace had faded in about five seconds as she now clung to him like her life depended on it- and offering gentle words of comfort. There was something about the way Booth called Christine 'baby'- so different from the intonation he used when he was talking to her- that warmed Brennan's heart every time. She stroked her daughter's hair affectionately, and Christine pulled away a tear-streaked face (for a moment, Brennan saw Parker when he had fallen from the swing many years ago and refused to let go of Brennan for the rest of the day, much to his father's bemusement- and her own) and then burst into renewed sobs._

_'I'm sorry, mommy!'_

_'It's not me you should be apologising to, love', Brennan responded gently, and Christine looked up at her father in whose arms she still stood, looking much younger and smaller than she was. _

_'I'm so sorry, Daddy.' And with this she buried her face in his t-shirt again, leaving a bewildered Booth to stroke her hair._

_'Hey, hey it's OK.' He looked at Brennan again, expression half-part a plea for help, half chastising._

_'-don't even know why I'm crying-'_

_Brennan murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, 'I expect it's the hormones' while Booth flashed her another look of warning- and pure terror- but Christine couldn't hear over the sound of her stuffed head and pounding ears. She finally pulled away from Booth, wiping her eyes thoroughly- Booth actually reached out and appeared to catch himself at the last moment, prepared to stop the violence of the gesture._

_'Right. Right. I'm uh, I'm going to bed. I'll see you both in the morning.' And with that, she scooped up all her discarded snacks- or as many as she could carry, melted ice cream and all- and made her way towards the staircase. She refused to meet either parent's eyes, but when she reached the top of the landing, she turned and called down softly,_

_'Goodnight, Mom. Dad.'_

_Booth, who had sunk down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, groaned and rested his head against Bones' stomach, over the fluffy bathrobe- like he had done over a decade ago when Christine was growing in there- and she stroked her hands through his (allegedly) rapidly greying hair. _

Her parents were in much the same position, and Christine Booth was standing on that same landing now, dressed in an elegant, flowy black dress with a lower hem and a higher neckline that her mother had helped her pick out a few weeks ago. She couldn't make out what her parents were saying but her bad mood was quite forgotten.

'How come she still likes you, huh?' Booth had grumbled, moments earlier. 'And all her new little friends do, too.'

It was true, Christine's friends loved her mother, with her cool stories of old digs and mummified remains, and her cool hairstyle and fashion sense, and her cool FBI husband. And they simply adored Angela, who without a daughter of her own had taken over all the 'girl duties' that were denied her by her two sons as a self-appointed fairy godmother.

'I think the problem was that they liked you too much, Booth',

Brennan snorted, picking up her wrap as they caught sight of their daughter on the stairs, and calling after her to hurry as they were getting late for the FBI gala.

'That was ONE girl, Bones, and ONE time-'

His wife laughed as he began guiding her towards the door and with that open, unguarded, beautiful sound- her ringing ratpack laugh- he found he couldn't even be annoyed about it anymore.

'Also, I gave young Sandra some advice on being confident in one's partner and level of readiness before embarking on a potential sexual relationship and practising safe and responsible sex', she informed him.

Booth nodded, but scrunched up his face indicating he didn't want to hear any more. Brennan paused thoughtfully and tapped a finger to her chin. 'She seemed _most _eager to receive guidance from me.'

'Huh.' Booth picked up his keys from the bowl by the door and began ushering her out.

'And where was Christine during all of this?'

He questioned distractedly, looking back to check if the child- young adult, he reminded himself- in question had followed them.

'In the room, ofcourse. I told her the same things.'

'And don't think I'm not going to talk to Angela about this, honest-'

(Luckily for them, Angela simply found Booth's concern amusing, and extremely sexy- much to the displeasure of Booth and Hodgins and Christine. But then the previous wording of Brennan's response registered.

'YOU DID WHAT-?'

'Mommy, Daddy, I'm ready to go!'

Their chipper little girl appeared at his elbow, smiling deviously. She was quite obviously thrilled at hearing that tone- and that decibel level- directed at someone else. Ducking under her father's arm, she stepped out into the bright, sunny evening.

'Beautiful day, isn't it?'

Booth rolled his eyes and stepped out after her, scowl firmly in place and hand resting on Brennan's back.

'You look gorgeous, by the way.'

'Thank you', Brennan smiled happily and straightened the already impeccable lapel on his tux, reaching up to peck him on the cheek. 'So do you.'

_Oh yeah, they were one loving, dysfunctional family unit, alright._

* * *

*** What the ruddy hell is the deal with that clock?**

**A/N: Well, that's all folks. Update on Purak to come soon. :) Read and review this if you want more! I haven't decided whether to leave it here or add more drabbles to the collection as they come to mind.**


	2. A Walmart Christmas

**Update Note*: Hey guys, I know this has been posted already in another one of my fics, and I'm sorry - I'm just doing some restructuring so that all the family-related, [mostly] family-friendly stories are posted in this collection, and Back and Forth will be reserved for BB only stuff. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS NEW! - So go on ahead and check it out if you've already read this :]**

**A/N: Merry Christmas everybody! This little Christmasy ficlet was inspired by a story I read in the news or on some website about a post a husband made about cheating on his wife while shopping at Walmart. I'm posting it now to tell you all happy holidays over this ungodly hiatus, and to tell you I'll be posting the next chapter of Purak before the end of the year. Sorry it's been so long between updates. Health issues and all. But may the holiday season be filled with love, laughter, friendship, purpose and a dance, for you and all your loved ones!**

* * *

**A Walmart Christmas**

**A last-minute afternoon shopping run**

The rather young, too-perky girl at the checkout counter smiled brightly at him as she chirped Merry Christmas and he absently returned a small grimace. He was slightly hungover and too old for this shit. He continued wheeling his trolley through the store. He wanted to be at home unwrapping presents under the Christmas tree and playing on the x-box with his kids and getting told off by his wife for it while she fed them that delicious healthy Christmas dip she made. He made his way to the canned fruit and food isle - there were entirely too many isles here - and half-heatedly threw in some stuff and made his way to the checkout counter. Oh, who was he kidding, he wanted to be home unwrapping**_ his_ **_**wife**._ He looked up absently in the middle of texting her to ask if they needed more milk when the woman standing one space ahead of him caught his eye. _What a knockout._ Booth stopped. The middle-aged lady directly in front of him have him a disapproving look and he knew the wedding ring on his hand must've been glinting conspicuously in the overhead white lights but he didn't care and absently dismissed her as he stared openly for a moment. The lady in front of him made a few pointed noises. Booth smirked. Then stared some more for a moment. Auburn tresses that ran nearly all the way down to the curve of her back just reaching that shapely ass, high boots that were somehow no-nonsense and sexy at the same time. He almost sighed. The lady hmphed disapprovingly. He may have sighed out loud. He shifted. The lady cleared her throat. He shot off a few quick texts to his wife. The older lady frowned, turning back around so her slightly ghastly orange frock, patterned and lined with lace, moved with her. Her grey hair looked like she still used curlers on it as he looked over the top of it from his taller vantage. Ahead of them, She pulled out a phone from the back pocket of those jeans that were melded to her and huffed slightly. Booth pushed ahead of the woman clearing her throat, with 'I'm sorry, may I -' and stepped behind the vision in blue jeans, leaving his cart behind. 'I'm sorry', She was saying to the chirpy checkout girl, 'my husband-'

He reached out,

'just texted to say he wants-'

He wrapped an arm firmly around her waist.

She had started then instantly relaxed at recognising his touch, exclaiming,

'Booth! what are you doing here?'

'- Is right behind you.'

just as he finished her sentence, talking over her at the same time.

He kissed her neck discretely and murmured 'and don't pick up any more trail mix for the trip, I've already got some.'

She turned to look at him prissily over her shoulder but her face was suffused with a radiant glow. He raised an eyebrow. As she opened her mouth to start speaking, he cut her off. He already knew what was coming.

'Yes, Bones, I got that healthy organic shit...'

'Really?' She smiled up at him widely, so pleased with the choice she forgot even to chastise him for calling it shit. His heart skipped a beat.

'Really.' He nodded, then cleared his throat gruffly. 'Uh, I just thought... Just because I eat all those fats and chemicals and hydrotoxins you keep lecturing me about - and I have no intention of giving up on the jerky by the way -'

She rolled her eyes and turned to pay for all the items on her much fuller cart that was still being unloaded. 'They are not hydrotoxins-' she interrupted. He'd been about to say he didn't mean their kids should do the same and he meant it when he spotted something else. And got derailed.

'Bones- what is that?'

'Oh. It's a meat substitute. Organic tofurkey b-'

'No.'

'Wha - you haven't even tried it yet-'

'No. I am not eating that instead of my usual holiday bird-'

'But Bo-_oth_ you _liked_ the nutri-nugget and peas that day, remember-'

'No. No. No.' He wouldn't hear it. 'Don't pout at me. I'm not looking.' True enough, he looked directly at chirpy girl who was still swiping things from Brennan's cart and smiled.

'You can check that out but I'm not eating it.' He informed his still-pouting wife. Then he pointed at his cart triumphantly. Her pout dropped. 'Good thing I already picked out a nice big full-pounder because I knew this would happen.'

Brennan rolled her eyes again but put back the meat substitute when he wasn't looking - without billing it - and swiped out the rest of her stuff.

'What are you doing here anyway?'

'Well, I wanted to get some of that pie that they make here that you love for some reason - and surprise you', she gestured at it in the bags Chirpy Checkout Girl was handing her. 'But here you are, so'

'I love you.'

He smiled at her, a full-charming-Booth smile and pecked her lightly on the lips.

Behind them, he heard a sigh.

'Thanks, Bones.'

When they pulled away, Brennan blinked. It was ridiculously cute that she blushed as if he'd kissed her right-here-in-public and they were sixteen.

'Sure'. Booth realising she was finished, made to return to his own cart with an, 'I'm sorry, ma'am-' for the woman behind him, but she now seemed to think he was the best husband in the world. [The smile probably hadn't hurt either]. This impression was solidified when Brennan reached out and grabbed at his neck, making him stop.

'Why are you wearing your dog tags?'

'I, uh was showing them to Hank', Booth looked down in surprise, having forgotten he had them on.

'Oh.'

'Remind me to take em off and put them away when we get home, would you?'

'Sure', Brennan replied, returning to her now bagged and filled cart as he made his way back into the line.

'Oh no, you go on ahead and check out so you can join your lovely wife. I'm in no hurry.' The older woman told him, eyes twinkling kindly beneath thick spectacles.

'But you were hear first-'

'Oh no dear', she smiled at him indulgently. 'I insist. You have far fewer items than me anyway.'

Booth thanked her and smiled, then moved his cart ahead to join Brennan.

'Thank you', Brennan said with an appreciative smile.

'You're very welcome', the woman replied. 'You're lucky to have such a wonderful husband. And in the service, too!'

'Yes', Brennan replied in her matter-of-fact way. 'But he's no longer on active duty. He's an FBI Agent now.'

'Bones?' Her attention was called away from the conversation.

'Yes?'

'Do we need more of the-'

'No, I already bought some last week. Christine took three boxes up to her room but I had her return one of the chocolate-chip, don't worry - because her father eats like a twelve-year-old as well', she finished pointedly. Booth chuckled.

'You'll put on weight if-'

'Hey, I'm in great shape, baby-'

'You say that _now, _but one day it'll catch up with you Booth. You're not getting any youn-'

'Bones, I'm in great shape, OK? Shut up. Come here.'

She rolled her eyes but stepped over to him anyway.

'I didn't recall you having any complaints about my physique recentl-' he began cockily, resting his hip against the counter.

The checkout girl was looking back and forth between them as they bickered with her mouth slightly agape.

'Is that all?' Booth turned to look at her.

'Y-yes'. She stammered and blushed, looking down. 'I'll just bag these for you.'

'As I said, Booth, you may not be able to maintain your physique forever. You're getting older, and you cannot rely on your metabolism to-'

'Um, ma'am-'

'Yes?' Brennan turned to look at her.

'Sho-uld I double bag that for you?' She asked, chirpilly, composure fully restored now that she had accepted they were just strange and she had no hope of understanding why they looked at each other like that only to keep fighting like that.

'Yes. Thank you.'

'Paper bags?'

'Please.'

'No-o problem.' She returned peaceably to her task, humming. She went back to the zen place in her head.

Brennan looked prepared to return to their argument so Booth quickly changed the topic.

'Look at that, hey, roller candy-'

'This proves my point _exactly_; you-'

So maybe not quite changing the topic. He rolled his eyes.

'-keep eating that junk and you _know _it's bad for you but-'

'Bones', he pinched the bridge of his nose.

'What?' She blinked innocently.

'Nothing', he glared down at her.

'And we're all done!' Chirpy Checkout interjected.

'Great!'

'Bill these together?'

'Yes.'

'No.'

Booth looked down at her in confusion. 'Why?'

'Because neither of us is carrying enough cash as of this morning and you left your credit card at the office. I'm not carrying mine; Christine has it-'

'I have my visa' Booth waved it, handing it to the checkout girl, and she saw his MasterCard in the wallet as well. She pointed at it.

'Oh, you went into work to pick up the credit card as well.'

'Yeah, decided to stop here on the way back. Because I knew we'd need a bird for tomorrow.'

'Alrighty, all done.'

'Thanks.'

Booth and Brennan exchanged glances. She knew he hated fakely chirpy people in customer service. He was in a considerably better mood now that his wife was here though so he offered the young girl a genuine smile and even filled the tip box. This girl really was timely in her interruptions, too. Booth's hand rested absently on the small of her back as he took his card when it was returned to him, and began to turn to lift their bags.

'But Booth- wait, who's watching the kids?'

'No one'.

'_What?_'

Surprisingly, Brennan was having a much, much harder time letting go and allowing them to take care of their everyday safety than Booth, in what hew knew was a very motherly way. Booth was still tougher about things like locking doors at night, sleepovers at friend's places without leaving numbers and contact information behind, and curfews when they travelled too far as well as phone-calls checking in when it came to their kids. But that was about it. They balanced each other out in this as in everything else. It was like leaving Christine at daycare- it hadn't bothered him nearly as much, but he'd spent much time soothing a nearly hysterical Brennan as she tried to calm down and consider the idea 'rationally'. It hadn't been much better the second time around with Hank. He knew he had to tread carefully in his answer.

'Bones, Christine is 14 years old, and she's watching Hank. We've discussed this', he lifted a few of the bags and turned to her, examining her silently, then stooped and picked up some more - all the heavier ones - and stood, looking at her fully. 'I'm sorry, I didn't know you still felt this way about it. Christine, she offered to stay with him, and it's only a couple hours. Should I not have-?'

'No', Brennan shook her head with a sigh, pinching her nose. 'No you're right, it's just- you're right.' She looked to be running through the list of reasons she'd given for agreeing that the kids should be left alone if Christine was baby-sitting on short trips from the house now. _Important to cultivate responsibility etc._ 'No- ofcourse. Yes.'

'Relax, baby', he soothingly rubbed circles on the small of her back absently. 'It's only a few minutes that we're both not home, and we'll be back soon.'

Someone sighed dramatically behind them again - it was the same lady.

'You two have a good Christmas now!' Booth wished her the same over his shoulder with one last smile, as Brennan seemed capable of little more than tightening her lips in imitation of one, and kissed the top of Bones' head as he turned back around, relieving her of a few more bags so she was carrying just the one - ironically, it contained some substitute meat cubes he hated but he ddn't know this.

'You're right', she relaxed into him, with a yawn. 'You're right.'

'Tired?' She felt his voice vibrate through his chest and shivered.

'Yes', she replied, wrapping her arms about him as he held her closer. 'Let's go home.'

* * *

**A/N: Happy Boxing Day, everybody! I hope you have a wonderful last week of the year. Look out for a chapter of Purak before it's finished. Best**


	3. The Addition to the Family

**A/N: Hello, readers! I'm assuming some of you are still alive and kicking out there. I know there have been no updates for... entirely too long. Old Boothaddict is crazy busy saving the world, and I've had a lot of things to deal with - complications with health, school, and life in general - but I'm back now, and the good news is I'll be updating atleast one of my multi-chapters atleast once before the week is out. I can't decide on whether it should be Don't Call It Bones, or Purak, or Not Seventeen Again, so if you have any opinions or preferences on that front, let me know!**

**I'd written this one-shot several months ago, possibly even over a year ago, and it just happened that I guessed at B****&amp;B's ****second kid being named Hank. There's a lot going on in this one, and it probably could have used an edit and a little snipping here and there, but it's just been sitting on the computer for so long, I thought I'd share it. I look forward to any and all feedback =****)****We're back, baby!**

* * *

**The Addition to the Family**

'Booth', came the clear, decisive voice from behind him, as he stood in line for popcorn at the movie theatre. 'I want to sit over there.'

She tossed long hair over an ivory shoulder, and pointed, waiting expectantly. Fully aware he could deny her nothing,. _The little minx._

'OK, sweetheart', Booth replied, with a sigh. 'I'll be right behind you.'

Booth looked down at her where she stood behind him. She flashed him a smile. His heart clenched.

'Booth?'

'Yes?'

'I want another one of these', she held out a half-eaten pack of rainbow-coloured candy. He opened his mouth to respond, looking at the long line ahead of them he'd just gotten out of. 'Please.'

He shut it. 'OK.'

'Uncle Booth?'

'Yes, darling?'

Harriet was going through a phase where she called most adults by their names so as to feel more grown up. It was _adorable._ She kept slipping up, though, and 'Uncle Booth' escaped out of habit.

'Dinosaurs weren't purple', she pointed at the poster behind them, and frowned. 'Dinosaurs weren't purple, so why is this one?'

Dinosaurs also couldn't talk, but that didn't seem to bother her. 'I saw it in the books.'

And this was perhaps the most Bones-like thing about her.

'It's, uh, it's just a cartoon.' He replied absently. 'Careful now- here take my hand. Don't push, Ari. Let these people go through.'

She had waited to see this movie for weeks. It was a long story, how he'd ended up here at the end of a long day, Booth thought, grabbing her hand gently in his much larger one before she could dart off in another direction.

It was one of those odd familial things that Harriet, Russ and Amy's first daughter together, looked a lot like Bones. Max had been the first to notice it, when he pointed out that Booth – who was great with kids, and a generally popular uncle with Michael-Vincent, Lance, and Amy's other kids – had a particular susceptibility to Harriet. In that she could almost always get him to do anything she wanted. She was a bit of a brat, really, but she had him wrapped around her [very little] little finger. As it happened, after Max - having shrewdly deduced the reasoning for it one afternoon upon walking into a room and seeing the two together so that it suddenly became clear to him - voiced his opinion on the matter, everyone else had to agree on it. Harriet looked an awful lot like her Aunt Temperance. Russ remembered that she even used to have hair uncannily like her when his sister had been that age. Silky, wavy brown tresses, the sparkle of defiant intelligence in her light eyes as she stuck that little nose into the air, her thin, upright little figure under those cute little frocks. And then suddenly there was no denying it.

She was visiting with them, as she often did, while Russ and Amy took a much-needed vacation for just the two f them. Amy's girls were off at college and school. Both of their own kids were out - Hank, Christine were at a day summer camp, Parker someplace else with friends, and Ari was too young to go with any of her cousins. Brennan was swamped with work, having been asked to deliver a guest lecture at a summit meet featuring a panel of renowned scientists, deliver a copy of her next book before deadline, and help The Jeffersonian pick a new intern for rotation since the last one had completed their PhD. Harriet breezed through the house, turning it upside down and rightside up, and it was becoming very clear she would have to be the focus of all attention for the day, including her aunt's. Brennan was getting increasingly agitated, and her husband was getting increasingly worried looking at her. So Booth had volunteered to take her to the movie.

_'Are you sure?' His wife had asked._

_'Yeah, ofcourse, Bones. It's fine. We'll be back in a couple hours. Relax, OK? Good luck with your work. Love you.'_

_'Booth...'_

_'I've bee wanting to see that orange dodo movie, anyway.'_

_'They're dinosaurs, Booth', she replied. 'And they're purple.' And she knew he was doing it just for her sake, and he knew that she knew, so he grinned at her, and she flashed him a slightly grateful, and still slightly stressed smile._

_'Yeah, that'. He reached out and smoothed the furrow between her brows, stnading close enough that her breathing had automatically picked up and risen as the distance between them decreased. 'Relax, baby.'_

_'OK'_

_'OK'_

_'Back in a couple hours', he winked. 'Make the most of it.'_

_And he'd bundled up the little ball of energy efficiently, and led her out the door and into the car._

The carride to the theatre had been short, but full of conversation.

Harriet was very talkative. Her topic for the day seemed to be marriage.

'When you meet a nice boy… that is when you're 33 years old, and you meet a nice guy, then we'll have this talk.'

'Why 33?'

'I don't know'. _Because it was ten years older than your aunt was? _'Just not before then'.

She paused contemplatively for a few moments. Finally,

'OK.'

'Then we'll have this talk again.'

'OK.'

'OK.'

'All boys are scum'.

'Yes', Booth unequivocally agreed, gleefully. 'All boys are scum.' He'd had less success getting Christine to repeat this philosophy in recent weeks, but he was still working on it. Then they got to the theatre.

They finally sat down in their seats, and she returned to the dinosaur question, the cute little furrow between her eyes.

'You look so much like your aunt when you do that', he murmured absently.

'Well I'd rather look like her than _you'_.

'Hey!' he replied, mildly insulted.

It had been so long since he'd been left alone with such a young child, he'd forgotten how amusing – and _exasperating_\- and entertaining they could be.

'You're very handsome, Uncle Booth', she explained.

'Thank you', he interjected, still with a bemused smile.

'You're welcome', she added primly. 'Now I was saying, you're very handsome- for an old person- _but-'_

He frowned.

'But you're a _man, _and auntie Temperwance and mommy are girls, and I'd rather look like a girl, because I am a girl.'

Booth replied that that was fair.

'Parker looks like you, but he's a boy, so that's OK.' She paused. 'He's also very handsome. But don't tell him I said so. I don't like his hair. You can tell him that.'

'I gotta tell you, kiddo, I don't like his hair much either these days.' A cut was definitely in order. He wondered which in which century growing out your hair would stop being a rite of passage for young boys on the verge of becoming men.

After this, Booth explained that they weren't related by blood anyway, so there was little danger of her looking like him, and she could rest easy.

'Oh', was all he got for his troubles. Then she sat and alternately gaped and frowned at the screen as she watched the movie. He watched her for a bit, then went back to it.

Harriet was in a 'why' phase. 'Why are the characters not real if the trees are real? Why is the sky orange? Why is the lion not eating the human? Why is that one purple?' And a general questioning all things phase – a phase which the much more adult Brennan had never emerged from, so there was a good chance it'd last forever. 'Are they puppets- Arya had a puppet once. They don't look like puppets. They don't look real. How do they move? Is that a real bird? Can birds talk? Do all birds fly? Can I have more soda?'

After the first barrage of questions had ended, and she had been shushed and admonished for not whispering, she quieted down a bit to watch the movie. But the warning hadn't deterred her very much and he hadn't been very stern about it. During a lull in the movie, she leaned over and asked in a loud whisper,

'Are the birds going to get a divoss?'

'No, I don't think so.'

'They've been fighting.'

'Yeah, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other, OK? Now sh, you're disturbing the other people', replied Booth softly, passing her some more popcorn in an unsuccessful attempt to distract her. He was getting quite wrapped up in the movie now himself.

'Yes. You and Auntie Tempwance fight all the time', she pointed out smartly.

'Ye-No- Yeah, but that's different. I love your aunt.' Booth could see the middle-aged woman next to them hiding a smile. 'We bicker. We don't, you know, fight.'

'I don't know.'

'What?'

'I don't know. What's the difference?' so much like Brennan he could almost have suspected she was being deliberately obtuse sometimes – if she wasn't six. And so damn cute. 'I just asked you that, you know.'

'_You know'_, was a habit that she'd picked up from him, as Brennan informed him. She was at that young, impressionable age where she'd imitate anything – or anyone – she liked.

'Well…' Booth rubbed the back of his neck. 'Your aunt and I, that's just how we talk. It's fighting, but it's not really fighting. We have differences of opinion-' _and voice them constantly- _'that means', he added before she could ask 'that we don't always see things the same way. But we still love each other.'

'I know that.'

'OK. Good. That's good.'

'If you _really _fight and you move out, can I stay with you? And go to Auntie Tempwance's for dinners? And maybe, lunch?'

Booth looked down at her, alarmed.

'Why would you think I was going to move out?'

'I don't. But Gwanpa Maxh said that if you weren't careful moving those boxes in the garage Auntie Tempwance would throw you out of the house.'

She couldn't do 'x's. The sound hissed through her teeth, creating a slight 'h' cushioning sound at the end. The lady behind them was definitely stifling laughter now.

'Yeah, well, he may be right about that', Booth shuddered. 'No man should ever get between Bones and her books.'

'Will you get a divoss?' her lower lip trembled.

'No. You don't ever have to worry about that, OK?

'But if you do…'

'We won't, baby, I promise.'

'OK.' The silence lasted a half second. 'If you got a divoss would you still be my uncle?'

'Ari…'

'But Maxh said, and you just said you might get thrown out of the house!'

'Sweetheart, that was a joke, OK? But I can see why it would be confusing for you. Your aunt is not- uh- she's not going to throw me out of our house. And I'll have a talk with your Grandpa Max.' Harriet nodded. 'You know how Bones loves her books right? Well - she may not admit it, but I know she loves me more', he winked. 'You should have seen her that time I dropped one of the boxes, though. She almost exploded', he made a soft, big whoosh sound that had her giggling, just as he'd intended.

'Josh's mommy threw Josh's Daddy out of the house, you know.'

_Oh boy._

'Did Josh's daddy not love his mommy?'

Booth cringed, paused, then sighed.

'I don't know, sweetheart. Sometimes… sometimes people stop loving each other the way they used to. Sometimes they fight too much, and then their differences become irreconcilable. Know what that means?'

'No'.

He explained, as best he could.

'So it's a difference of opinion?'

'You can have differences of opinion and still love each other, but sometimes you grow apart, you become too different, and then it doesn't work anymore, you know? But I can almost guarantee you, even without knowing all the rest of it' he added seriously. 'That both, uh, Josh's mommy and daddy still love him.'

'Ir-reconcilable?'

'Irreconcilable.'

She loved learning new words, and he was hoping this one would distract her from a topic that seemed to be plaguing her, probably because of a combination of things she'd overheard lately, and top on that list being a classmate's parents' divorce in primary school.

'If you and Aunt Tempe get a divo_rss_, will you still be my uncle?'

Again her lips quivered around the word, and his heartstrings quivered right along.

'That's not going to happen, so you don't need to worry about it.'

'But if it does?'

'It will never happen, I promise.'

Her lower lip trembled.

'But do you promise you'll always be my uncle?'

Booth sighed.

'Because Bones will always be your aunt – I promise. Always.'

She also had the ability, like Bones, to take him from frustrated to hopelessly charmed in the space of a heartbeat.

And the movie was finally drawing to a close, and they headed home after it was finished. Brennan was waiting for them, and Booth could tell from one careful look that she

'I'm exhausted', Booth set his keys down in the bowl on the mantle, absently lifting his wallet from the pocket of his cargo shorts to add with it. 'Her, not so much', he indicated Harriet, who had barely paused long enough to greet her aunt and was now bounding up the stairs.

'How much candy did you give her?' Brennan raised her eyebrows. A classic mom gesture that never failed to intimidate and amuse.

'Only one bar' he smiled at the knowing look his wife was giving him. God, how he loved her. 'I bought her the sugarless stuff first because I knew she'd ask for another. I learned from the best, Bones.'

She smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around her.

'Yes, you did.'

'I love you.'

She smiled in slight surprise, having just seen him two hours ago, but echoed the sentiment anyway.

'No, really. I love coming home to you.' He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her lips.

She understood the meaning behind the words. It seemed almost unreal, even now, even with all the ugliness they had to deal with at work everyday, that life could be this good. This simple.

He looked down at her, a secret smirk playing about his lips.

'What?'

'Nothing.'

His hands framed her face as he looked down at her. He smirked again, that slightly boyish, ridiculously manly, oh-so sexy smirk, and Brennan actually squirmed in place.

'Make any progress?' He asked somewhat huskily, knowingly.

'Y-yes.' She cleared her throat and continued more strongly. 'I'm finished with-'

But he interrupted her.

'You're not done with your book, but you called your new preppy editor and told her the publishers could stuff it, but she'd have to stick with the original deadline if they want to extend your contract. The remains, of course, you identified first of all. You've finished your speech, but you've still got to write an opening joke. Don't worry, Bones, I won't help you with it. Not unless you ask_ very _nicely.' And he had practically purred the last words in that silken voice, as she pouted. She didn't bother asking him how he knew. Booth had always known these things about her. Before she could ask, anyway, he pulled her impossibly closer, so close without their bodies actually touching.

'How's about-' he looked towards the staircase. 'How's about I go tuck in our little niece, and then, 'his hands slid lower onto her waist and his smile dropped as she gasped and his eyes darkened as hers widened, 'I'll tuck you in. I'll help you relax, Bones'.

He nuzzled her neck, and her head dropped back. 'Booth...'

'I'll help you relax, and then when you're all nice... and relaxed...' he dropped a kiss against her skin and smiled as she gasped involuntarily. 'Then maybe you can work on your joke. Alone.'

She laughed.

'OK'

'OK?'

He smiled that full, Booth smile, that smile she had never seen directed at anyone else but her, by anyone not bearing the last name Booth. She loved that smile. And she loved her husband.

'I love you, Booth.'

'I love you too, Bones.'

He smiled down at her playfully.

* * *

Booth was pouting. Once more. Brennan bit her lip to keep from smiling.

'Booth…' she said indulgently, pre-emptively and somewhat admonishingly. 'I know you don't like it, but she's been with us two weeks already, Russ and Amy are done with their vacation, and it was time for her to go back to her parents.'

'Why?' Booth whined.

Brennan simply shook her head and refused to answer, knowing the tantrum was only just beginning. It had to be allowed to run its course.

'Couldn't we keep her just a little bit longer?' He wheedled. 'They have _three_; they're not going to notice if one goes missing.'

'As a father of three yourself, I'm sure you'll agree you would notice if, uh, one child went missing.'

'She looks just like you', he breathed, stepping forward suddenly and rubbing the little crease between her brows that appeared as she frowned. He looked completely enraptured and she wasn't able to breathe speak for a moment, and had she been thinking straight or at all she would have been amazed at her ability to string together a coherent sentence. When she did,it came out a bit shakily.

'While I still don't really see it, and Harriet is a six-year-old so her facial features aren't fully developed yet, I admit there is a certain resemblance, and there are certain… similarities in our manner of speech and bearing.'

'So many', he murmured absently, his gaze darting all over her face.

'I want another kid.'

'Booth…'

He placed one hand on either side of the wall behind her face which he had been cupping moments earlier.

'No. I want another kid.'

He had trapped her against a wall by this point.

'You're serious?' she breathed, and

'Yes', he said. 'God, yes.'

'But Booth…' she bit her lip.

'What, Bones? You're still plenty young enough to have a baby. We're taking it easy at work. We could both afford the time off, and –'

Brennan paused.

'Christine has already gotten so much older. And _Parker _is-'

'Old enough that he'll be happy for us _and _he can definitely babysit on date-night, and Hank and Christine would love a new baby brother – or sister – to play with.'

The last, she knew, was a reference to the time Parker had babysat Hank for them. He had been 14, just getting into girls, and he'd had a girl over with tacit permission. They were watching a movie when Booth and Brennan returned, only to find the baby alarm off – which Parker hadn't noticed – and Hank crying – which Parker also hadn't noticed, given that his baby brother was in the crib in his room and Parker had just manoeuvred his arm over his date, who had been peremptorily sent home to her parents. Frightened for their infant son and what could have happened, Booth had given him such a lecture and dressing down that Parker hadn't received in years and he was still shell-shocked when his father stormed upstairs. Brennan had lingered in the kitchen silently.

* * *

_'__I'm sorry he was hard on you.' She had said. 'But your father is right. That was really irresponsible, Parker. Anything could have happened. I hope you know that now.'_

_He replied that he did know. 'Msorry, Bones', and he'd looked very much the five-year-old that was the first kid she'd really fallen in love with and she'd just sighed and said 'come here' as he'd gratefully accepted the embrace. A slightly disturbed Booth, his temper uncontrolled, had been about to dismiss Parker to his room when she'd given him a death glare as if to say, __**no you go to your room, **__before he'd looked at her in disbelief and headed off. Brennan sighed. She'd gone upstairs and looked at her husband silently without saying a thing._

_'__What, are you going to make me apologise to him?' Booth asked, ire still not gone from his tone._

_'__No, but I do think you were far too harsh on him and you can't expect me to be the same way. Goodnight.' She'd replied, miffed. She had let him hold her when he slid down next to her with a sigh to go to sleep, though he hadn't said anything and propped up against the headboard and just fumed quietly until then._

* * *

'You're hoping it'll be a girl again, aren't you?' She asked, eyebrow raised, as he grinned at her foolishly.

'Or a boy', he shrugged honestly. 'It'd be nice to even out the number, but it doesn't matter to me.' Then- 'Is that a yes?'

Brennan licked her lips absently as she did sometimes when she was contemplating something, and his gaze dropped as he tried very hard – and unsuccessfully – not to moan.

'Yes.'

* * *

**A/N: Well there you have it! It's hopelessly unedited, so please let me know if there are any glaring errors to correct. And don't forget to weigh in on which fic you'd like to see updated next - Purak, DCIB, NSA, or one of the others. Have a great day, wherever in the world you are. Sending lots of love and Booths to you all.**


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